mirror, mirror
by Marvelgeek42
Summary: Harry was about to use the spell he had discovered in the Half-Blood Prince's book a free weeks ago. He was curious to see what it did. Sectumsempra. For enemies, that's what the Half-Blood Prince had written in his book. But, he asked himself as his mouth was opening, is Draco really my enemy?


**For** ** _obscurialdefenseclub_** **, I hope you like it!**

 **Also for the Daily Prophet Competition of Issue 7, for the Seeker prompt: Harry - Expelliarmus**

 **Word Count: 1,095**

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 ** _mirror, mirror_**

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There weren't many days left until the game against Ravenclaw, the final game of the season when Harry happened to be alone as he looked at the Marauder's Map and spotted Malfoy in a bathroom with Moaning Myrtle.

This discovery lead him to walk straight into a suit of armour and flee the scene before Filch had a chance to arrive and give him detention during the game.  
And if he ran directly to the bathroom, then it was purely because it was on his mind.

He couldn't hear anything through the door, so he slowly opened it a bit.

The Slytherin's back was turned towards the door as he clutched a sink. His hair looked so unruly, that it reminded Harry more of the mess on his own head than Draco's usual look.

Myrtle was asking Malfoy to tell her what was wrong so that she could help him. Malfoy, however, shook his head and claimed that no one could help him. That he couldn't do it—whatever "it" was—and that he would be killed if he failed.

Was Malfoy crying? Yes, Harry realized, he was. Malfoy was crying. It was so odd to see him like this, it made Harry want to cross the room and hug the Slytherin, telling him that whatever "it" was, they would find a way to get Draco out of this mess alive.

Before Harry had decided whether or not he really wanted to do this, Malfoy looked up in the mirror and spotted Harry over his shoulder.

Malfoy spun around and pointed his wand at Harry, a posture that he mirrored instinctively.

Both of them missed the other once as Moaning Myrtle protested in the background, before both of them missed a second one, causing various things to explode around them.

Then, Draco's face contorted, almost as if he had made a choice that he really despised. The Slytherin opened his mouth and, somehow, Harry knew that he was about to attempt an Unforgivable. The word attempt being a crucial part of it.

Harry was about to use the spell he had discovered in the Half-Blood Prince's book a free weeks ago. He was curious to see what it did. _Sectumsempra._ For enemies, that's what the Half-Blood Prince had written in his book.

 _But,_ he asked himself as his mouth was opening, _is Draco really my enemy_?

Had anyone asked him this question before, Harry would have agreed without a doubt, but suddenly, he wasn't so sure. Something made him question it, and Harry wasn't sure that was a bad thing.

Draco—hang on, when had Malfoy become Draco?—certainly was an annoyance, yes, but did that mean he was an enemy as well?  
Harry wouldn't wish him the things he wished Voldemort. And if Voldemort was his enemy—which he was, that much was obvious—then surely this meant Draco was something else entirely.

It took him only a fraction of a second to decide that, so Draco—seriously why was he calling the Slytherin by his first name in his head?—hadn't even had the time to finish speaking his spell.

 _"Expelliarmus,"_ Harry intoned, causing Draco's wand to flow out of his hand and into his own.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's your favourite spell, isn't it?" The Slytherin snorted and mockingly threw his hands into the air. "Gryffindor's Golden Boy! Doesn't hurt anyone, not even those who clearly desire to harm him!"

Harry chuckled darkly. "It's nice to hear that you think so highly of me, really. But I have hurt people and there are some that I would love to introduce to a knife, believe me. Hell, I killed Quirrell. People just don't talk about that. I've got a thirst for revenge, but you're not one of the people I want to hurt." It amazed himself that the words he spoke were the truth. How hadn't he noticed that he didn't actively hate Draco, or at the very least not anymore? What had changed?

Draco hadn't bothered them for a while. In fact, he barely did anything except going to classes and doing whatever he was doing in the Room of Requirement. He looked like he barely seemed to eat or sleep, which Harry connected to on a deep level.

"Are you truly insane, Potter?" Draco raised an eyebrow and his face couldn't possibly be more judgemental. "Why on earth wouldn't you try to get revenge for me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Once again, Harry replied before he knew what he was going to say. "You have never truly hurt me. Not outside of Quidditch, at least. Your schemes never were that terrible and I have the sneaking suspicion that you're regretting a lot of the things you said to my friends and I over the years."

Although Draco didn't acknowledge the last of his statement, Harry could see from the guilt in his eyes that it was true.

"You really are mad," Draco concluded instead, taking a step towards Harry. "Haven't you realized what spell I literally just tried to use on you? It was a Cruciatus, in case you didn't." He reverted back to his arrogant tone of voice, but it seemed like it was simply an attempt to reassure himself.

"Yeah," Harry replied, also taking a step forward. "Did you mean it, though?"

Draco blinked confusedly. "What?"

"Did you really and truly mean it?" Harry repeated. "Did you fully intend to torture me, want it with all of your heart? You have to, for it to work, you know. Your lovely aunt actually taught me that. And, quite frankly, I don't think you did."

Draco's stance faltered for a moment, before he appeared to pull himself back together. "And how would you know that?"

"It was in your expression," Harry basically whispered, almost closing the gap between them entirely, even if—yet again—he wasn't completely sure why he did so.

And now the two of them were standing centimetres from each other, looking each other in the eyes.

Before Harry knew what happened, the gap between them was completely gone and their lips had found another. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a Potter and a Malfoy, just standing there, kissing, in a semi-destroyed bathroom.

It was only when Myrtle cooed that Harry remembered that they weren't alone.

But, somehow, he didn't care and Draco didn't exactly seem to mind it either. They kept kissing for a small eternity and when they eventually parted, they kept their foreheads together.

"We are in deep trouble if anyone else discovers this," Draco whispered.

"As if we weren't before," Harry scoffed.


End file.
